


rescue me (if you like)

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [169]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Closure, Friends to Lovers, Happily Ever After, Happy Ending, M/M, Past Infidelity, Post-Divorce, Reconciliation, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 11:13:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17559299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: Just because he’d spent a few happy months in the country when he was a child doesn’t mean he has the first clue about how to manage a farm. Just because Merlin picked up the phone at two in the morning doesn’t mean they’re destined to live happily ever after.





	rescue me (if you like)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the final instalment of the _Telephone_ series. Although technically it is a stand-alone, you may want to read the rest of the series first for context if you haven't done so already!
> 
> Title from Bic Runga's [_Honest Goodbyes_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QiMUUc6PUGE).

He has to go back to London, eventually. There are meetings to attend, belongings to pack. Affairs to lay to rest, once and for all.

“It shouldn’t take more than a week or two,” Arthur tells Merlin, who is standing on the station platform like a man bereft, his hands in his pockets as he trails after the train. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Just as long as it’s not another six and a half years,” Merlin says, trying to smile. He means it to be a joke, Arthur can tell, but the uncertainty in his eyes makes the attempt fall flat. “Safe travels, Arthur.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Arthur repeats, but he’s not sure Merlin believes him.

+

In London, Arthur feels out of place. He has only been in Ealdor a few months, give or take, but already the world appears to have moved on without him. Everything is too loud, too fast, and after a couple of days, signing over the company to Morgana is no longer the painful choice he had expected it to be.

“Are you really, absolutely sure?” his sister asks him one last time, studying Arthur carefully as he scrawls his name on yet another document. “Not that I have any objection, but—you’ve made some major changes recently. Perhaps you should take a little more time– ”

“I’m sure, Morgana.” Arthur caps the pen and lays it down on the desk; his father’s desk. “You know I never wanted this life. And I think– ” He remembers Merlin’s snug little house, the way the garden merges seamlessly into the rolling hills. “I think I’ve found something better.”

Talking to Gwen is harder. They meet for lunch at an elegant café Arthur has never been to before, and she asks him if he was ever happy.

“It wasn’t all a lie, was it?” she asks, and he’s not sure whether she wants him to agree or not. “What we had. Some of it was real.”

He gives her a hug before he leaves, and she kisses his cheek, perfunctory but not unpleasant.

“It wasn’t all a lie,” he says, looking into her eyes. “It’s just that it wasn’t all true, either.”

+

And then he’s back on the train, two weeks and too long later, watching the countryside unravel and wondering if he’s crazy, giving up everything he’s ever known for something that might not even work out. Just because he’d spent a few happy months in the country when he was a child doesn’t mean he has the first clue about how to manage a farm. Just because Merlin picked up the phone at two in the morning doesn’t mean they’re destined to live happily ever after. There are too many years and too many disappointments between them for that, and apart from that one kiss, weeks ago now, they haven’t exactly rushed headlong into one another’s arms. Maybe Arthur’s making a mistake.

By the time he arrives in Ealdor, it’s early evening. Long rays of amber sunlight slant through the dusty glass of the bookshop on the corner, and Arthur spots Merlin immediately, standing at the edge of the open platform like he’s on the brink of running away.

“Merlin,” Arthur calls, feeling the bound of his heart and hoping against hope that, for once, he’s in the right place at the right time; making the right choice. “Think you could give me a lift?”

The look on Merlin’s face is worth the torture it has been to stay away from him for so long. Arthur hadn’t even allowed himself to call, only to text, afraid that the sound of Merlin’s voice would weaken his resolve to see things through. He has to do this right. There can be no loose ends, this time, nothing to hold him back.

“Arthur,” Merlin says, when Arthur reaches him. “I—you’re here.”

“Told you I’d be back.” Arthur stands in front of him, suitcase at his feet, shifting his weight from side to side as he waits for Merlin to move—to speak—to do something. Merlin is looking at him like he’s never seen him before, his hands reaching out automatically to clutch at the sleeves of Arthur’s coat.

“I know, I just.” Merlin shakes his head. The bones of his wrists are very fine, twisting restlessly when Arthur grips them. He tugs Merlin closer, stepping forward himself so that they meet in the middle, chest to chest, and Merlin’s breath is warm and startled against his cheek.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he says, searching Merlin’s face. “But if you don’t want this—”

“I do,” Merlin interrupts. “I do want this. I’ve wanted it for so long I don’t know what it’s like not to want it.”

“Me too,” Arthur admits. He brushes back a strand of Merlin’s hair and looks at him, the dear, familiar lines of his face, the wavering smile, and kisses him almost as an afterthought.

Merlin lets out a small sound, his lips parting gently under Arthur’s, one hand sliding round to cup the back of his neck. Arthur used to know the shape of Merlin’s body by heart, but after so many years it’s almost awkward, as if inhabiting a younger skin that no longer fits. For an instant, he just breathes, getting used to the way Merlin feels against him, their matching heights, the strangeness of stubble against his cheeks.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry,” he says, stepping back. “For everything, for letting you go in the first place, I– ”

“You were a prat, yeah?” Merlin resettles Arthur’s collar, laying it flat against his chest before leaning in for another kiss. “But I think you’re done now.”

“I swear, I’m done.” Arthur buries his face in Merlin’s neck and holds him tight. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

Merlin only laughs in answer. “I’ll hold you to it,” he says.


End file.
